


If This Is The End

by Frumpologist



Series: Hermione Bingo Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Love, Order Spy Draco, Romance, Secret Relationship, War AU, Wartime Romance, ambiguous HEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 02:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: If he must die, Draco hopes it’s in her arms.





	If This Is The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pronunciation_Hermy_One](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/gifts).



> This story was written for the Hermione’s Haven Bingo 2019 and fulfills square O4 — Wartime Romance. 
> 
> In addition, this angst-filled little ficlet is dedicated to Pronunciation_Hermy_One, who has endured my blathering on, my constant badgering with fic recs, my near-constant whinging and pleading for updates on her (amazing) Billaise fic, and for generally being My Person, whom I can count on for anything despite the fact that half the United States exists between us (which we’ve discovered is probably a good thing because of the consensus that apocalypses are frowned upon). I love you and appreciate you and completely blame you for this newfound adoration of angst I have. <3

He can’t think. Can’t eat. Can’t  _ breathe _ . 

It’s been a fortnight since he’d laid eyes on her. Two full weeks since he’d run his fingers through her impossible hair, felt the silkiness of her full lips against his, heard the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat as they lay together. 

The safe houses are no longer safe. 

She is on the run.

The only reason he knows she’s alive is because they haven’t called for a celebration yet. The Mudblood who has taken down every Death Eater camp in West Country England is still out there,  _ somewhere _ , surviving. 

It’s the only thought that brings him peace. All the rest just make his heart clench and his chest tighten. His palms are so sweaty that the wood of his wand slips through his fingers. His vision so distorted that it’s like gazing out of a fish tank. 

But, Hermione Granger is alive. 

And that’s all that matters anymore.

* * *

  
She can’t think. She can’t eat. She can’t  _ breathe.  _

It’s been a fortnight since she’d laid eyes on him. Two full weeks since she’d wrapped her fingers in the platinum hair at the base of his skull, felt the velvet kiss of his tongue lave against her throat, heard the way he moans her name when she moves in just the right way. 

The Death Eater camps are gone.

They’re looking for her. 

She’s certain that the only reason she’s alive is because he’s feeding them false trails. The Dark Lord’s very own Lieutenant slowly collapsing his regime from the inside. He’s there, hidden within their ranks, ruining them so that she might have a chance to survive.

It’s the only thought that brings her peace. All the rest just make her stomach roll and her legs wobble. Her throat is so dry that she can barely call out jinxes as she waves her wand through the air. Her heart slams so fast against her rib cage that she’s sure her pursuers can hear it.

But they’re alive. 

And that’s all that matters anymore. 

* * *

 

After a month passes, Draco is subject to the Cruciatus Curse for five minutes straight. The walls of his Occlumency fail. The Dark Lord knows all of his secrets. The Crucio continues until he passes out and wakes up in a dark cell. Tremors quake through him constantly. He’s worried he’ll never stop twitching. 

But if she’s still alive, he’ll gladly suffer. 

He’ll die for her. 

One day. 

* * *

 

She hasn’t been home in a month. Her death toll continues to grow as she gets closer and closer to capture. It started with one Death Eater on her tail. Last night, Hermione razed five of them. Something inside of her is broken. She’s worried that she’s got no more soul left to save. 

She’s alive, but at what cost? 

She’ll find out. 

One day.

* * *

  
He’s not sure how long he’s been locked in the cellar. It’s been dark for so long. When footsteps echo through the space, he backs up from the cell bars on instinct. His fingers twitch against the jagged rock of the wall. Eyes squint at the pale yellow light that shines from the end of a wand. He can’t make out the face of whoever it is, isn’t sure he wants to know who’s come to torture him next. 

“Filthy mudblood,” the voice spits as the cell doors grind open. “The Dark Lord will make you pay for what you’ve done.”

Draco’s heart stops. Seizes painfully in his chest. His throat bobs under the strain of swallowing around a dry patch. His eyes fall on her as she scrambles from the floor and stands across from him. 

She jumps as the cell doors slam closed. 

Her hair’s a mess around her pale face. Sticking out with wiry curls and bits of twigs and leaves tangled within it. There’s dirt smeared along her cheekbones, blood dripping from her lips. He takes a step towards her and she winces.

Draco stops dead in his tracks. His fingernails bite into the flesh of his hand. 

“Draco?” Her voice is soft and hoarse. He can barely make out his name falling from her lips. “Is that you?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t realize how rough his voice is until he tries to speak. Raw from screaming. 

Her arms wind around him. Hermione holds him a little bit too tight. He wheezes, coughs, trembles as he wraps her in his arms and buries his nose into her neck. Every part of his body aches, but he doesn’t let go.

“They’ve won.” She sobs the words out and her entire body quakes under the stress of it. “There’s no one left.”

“The Order isn’t gone,” he whispers against her skin.

She smells like the forest and sweat and fear. He holds her a little closer despite the sharp pains that shoot through him. 

“They’re in hiding. Numbers are depleted.” Hermione’s cries raise tears to his own eyes. He doesn’t know how to soothe her; there’s no lie he can tell that she won’t see through. “There are more of them than there are of us.”

“This can’t be the end,” he tries to reason futilely and finally pulls back to look into her eyes. “Hermione, it can’t.”

“If it is—” her fingers find his jaw and they slide against his stubble, “then I’m glad to be here, with you.”

“Fuck, Hermione. I can’t—” 

Their lips meet in a soft frenzy. If this is meant to be one of the last moments they share, then he’s going to make it count. He explores the rest of her gently with the pads of his fingers, taking stock of every wince and gasp he swallows. She doesn’t appear to be too hurt, a small mercy and one that he silently thanks Circe for.

Her shaky breath fans his face when he begrudgingly pulls away from her. There’s something in her eyes— hope, perhaps? 

“What do you know?” Draco asks with a swipe of his thumb under the plump curve of her lip.

“They took my wand.” She sniffs, stealing the last remnants of her misery from the cellar and squares her shoulders. 

“Standard protocol,” Draco shrugs. He plucks a twig from her hair and lets it fall to the ground. “But I don’t understand what that gleam in your eyes is for given our current, rather dire, situation.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d guess she’s smug. 

“When they found my wand, they didn’t think to look for another.” Hermione slips her hand from around his waist and reaches around her back. 

“Did you—”

But he doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Right before his eyes is a short, dark wand. Between her fingers, she holds their salvation. 

“Hermione, you’re brilliant!” The excitement hurts, stings the torn flesh of his throat, but he doesn’t care. His lips fall onto hers again and he can feel her smile. 

“I don’t know how to get out of here,” she admits after he finally stops kissing her. “It’s you and me against everyone upstairs. And there are a lot of them. We only have the one wand and nowhere to hide.”

“We’ll go together.” His eyes catch hers and his heart slams in his throat. “If this is the end, we’ll go together.”

She nods, just a quick dip of her chin, and aims the stolen wand at the lock on their cell. 

“Alohomora,” she whispers. 

The lock clinks open. The cellar door creaks. They spare one another a glance. Their hands tangle together. 

“If I don’t ever get a chance to say it again, Hermione, I—”

“Don’t.” She squeezes his hand and clamps around the wand. “Not like this.”

Draco agrees with a firm nod and then places a kiss to her temple. They slink out of the cellar and up on the stone steps, not once breaking their grip on one another. He takes another second to memorize her eyes and then breathes steadily through his nose. The war and a room full of Death Eaters await them, but he’s with her and she’s confident enough for both of them. 

She glances at him from the corner of her eye. 

“Together, then.”

“Together.”


End file.
